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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26914684">On Hope and Tragedies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/allirica/pseuds/allirica'>allirica</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Emmerdale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Complicated Relationships, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, M/M, Self-Hatred, Vic is a good sister</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:46:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,316</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26914684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/allirica/pseuds/allirica</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>a conversation between Vic and Robert, set right after the helicopter crash. </p>
<p>in which Vic sees that, despite everything, Robert's still desperately in love with Aaron Dingle.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>On Hope and Tragedies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>content warnings for: the helicopter crash; mentions of Val and Ruby's deaths; complicated relationships; implied self-hatred; grief; angst; heavy themes.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I knew it.”</p>
<p>Vic’s voice.  It draws Robert out from his spiral; the confusion he feels at her words chases away the shadows of grief and guilt for a blissful moment.  He drags his gaze away from the hospital vending machine, looks at Vic, and tries not to think about Aaron being here too, somewhere, sat in a room getting his wounds tended to.  Tries not to think about <em>hidden</em> injuries – head injuries, internal injuries, things that could be missed in all of the chaos – and reminds himself that Aaron is fine, but others – others <em>aren’t</em>, and he’s so fucking tired, but Vic is here and staring at him with a steady perceptiveness that reminds him too much of their mother.  He looks away.</p>
<p>“What?” he finally manages.</p>
<p>“I know you, Rob,” she says. “And I saw your face.”</p>
<p>He punches a code in at random.  There’s a gurgling sound as the machine starts to spit liquid into a paper cup.  Tea, maybe. </p>
<p>“What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>She steps closer, casting a glance around, but the corridor is empty.  There’s a reason Robert had fled to this part of the hospital, after all.</p>
<p>“After Aaron ran back in,” she says lowly. “I <em>saw</em> ya, Robert. I saw the way you stared after him. You were scared, weren’t ya? You looked crushed.” She hesitates, then asks the question he’s dreading: “You still love him, don’t you?”</p>
<p>Robert swallows, staring at the blurry, over saturated colours on the vending machine.  His eyes feel gritty and sore.  The liquid has stopped now; the hallway is silent.  </p>
<p>Is he that obvious, that even in the chaos and ruin, even in the panic and smoke and terror, she’d seen how he’d felt when Aaron went straight back into a burning, collapsing building?</p>
<p>He’s been trying to ignore it all day.  Trying to ignore the heart-wrenching, awful way he felt like his world was caving in when he saw Aaron disappear back into the smoke and destruction.  That moment, that split second of <em>oh God, I still love him</em> followed by <em>I can’t lose him. Please God, don’t let me lose him, too</em>.</p>
<p>He’s been trying to bury the relief he’d felt when Aaron appeared again, bloody and injured and coughing, but beautifully, brilliantly <em>alive</em>.  His world had shifted on its axis, his knees had gone weak, and his very bones had screamed out with sheer, unrivalled fucking <em>joy</em> that Aaron wasn’t dead.</p>
<p>And then Val had died, and he hasn’t had a second to think about Aaron since, swept up in guilt and grief and fury, busy comforting Diane, busy trying to sort Chrissie out.<br/>
But Vic looks at him now and there’s a sad sort of knowing in her gaze.  She’d seen it.  She’d seen all of it.</p>
<p>“I…” he starts, stops.  Tries to think.</p>
<p>“Don’t lie,” she says. “Just for once, tell the truth. Please don’t lie to me, Robert.”</p>
<p>“The truth?” His tongue feels gummy, too thick for his mouth.  He reaches for the paper cup with shaking fingers.  He’s so bloody tired.  He hasn’t got it in him to lie anymore. “Yeah, you’re right. I love him. I thought – I thought I was over him, but today…seeing him run back into that building, I realised that I’m not. I’m not over him. And I don’t think I ever will be.”</p>
<p>Her face crumples into a sympathy he doesn’t deserve.  She wraps her arms carefully around his shoulders, clinging to him despite their height difference.  It’s awkward and a little uncomfortable, and hot tea spills over the edge of the cup in Robert’s hands, burning the chapped skin of his fingers, but he’s grateful, so overwhelmingly grateful in that moment for one simple hug from his sister.</p>
<p>“Oh, Rob,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine.” The words are flat.  Automatic.  Recited. “I can handle it. It’s what I deserve.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be mopey,” she chastises.  She’s trying to sound grouchy, but there’s a sadness in her tone that makes him hurt. “I mean, why don’t you just…go for it? There’s nothing stopping ya now, is there? You and Chrissie are over. You and him can be together, properly.”</p>
<p>He closes his eyes. “It’s not that simple, Vic.”</p>
<p>But God, he wishes it was. </p>
<p>She draws back slightly to frown at him. “Why not? You love him. Yeah, he’s mad at ya and whatever, but you can fix it. I know you can.”</p>
<p>“He hates me,” Robert reminds her, and she shakes her head.</p>
<p>“I’ve seen what hate looks like on Aaron. That’s not how he looks at you. He loves ya, Robert. Maybe he doesn’t know it. Maybe he reckons he hates ya. But he still loves you. It’s obvious.”</p>
<p>For a second, Robert almost lets himself believe it.  Almost lets himself hope.  But there’s already been one miracle today when it comes to Aaron…and there’s also been too many tragedies – Vic, Ruby, a complete fucking stranger who is dead because of him and Chrissie – to let himself be vulnerable enough to do something as foolish as <em>hope</em> for something so fucking impossible.</p>
<p>“Is it?” he asks bleakly. “Too much happened, Vic. I fucked up too much. We both did.”</p>
<p>She sighs. “Sometimes, I reckon it would be easier if you <em>did</em> both hate each other.”</p>
<p>He laughs, low and bitter, because she’s right.  He thinks it would be a hell of a lot easier if he could hate Aaron.  If he could even be <em>indifferent</em> to him.  If he could feel nothing towards Aaron, things would make sense again, and life might start to right itself.  But he can’t.  He’s tried, he’s forced himself to, but it never lasts, it never works.  Life is never that simple.  Aaron has him.  Aaron will always have him.</p>
<p>“But you don’t,” Vic adds. “You love each other. Isn’t that worth trying to sort it out and make a go of it?”</p>
<p>He shakes his head.  He wishes, aches for the ability to do that, to somehow mend everything he’s done and have a real chance with Aaron.  But it would never work.  He loves Aaron, loves him so much it hurts…but part of him hates him, too, for outing him to Chrissie – to the whole village.  There’s too much grief, too much guilt, too much <em>anger</em> to focus on the love.  </p>
<p>Besides, all the love in the world wouldn’t matter, because Aaron would never accept it.  Whether Vic is right or not, whether Aaron does still love him or not, it doesn’t matter…because Aaron would walk on hot coals to keep going, and leave Robert far, far behind him.  Robert disgusts him.  It’s only a matter of time before that disgust shifts to something even worse.</p>
<p>“Maybe he does still love me,” he acknowledges quietly. “But he’ll get over it. He’ll move on. And then there will just be the hate.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Rob,” she mutters.</p>
<p>He knows she’s gearing up for more – she can be a dog with a bone when it comes to what she thinks is best, and right now, she’s fixating on Robert and his impossible feelings to distract herself from her own loss – and he’s not ready to hear it.  He <em>can’t</em> hear it.  Not today.  Probably not ever.</p>
<p>So he ghosts a brief kiss to her forehead and presses the paper cup into her hands. “Give this to Diane,” he suggests. “Reckon she could do with a brew.”</p>
<p>Vic nods, her fingers tightening steadily around the cup.  She’s been given a mission, and that’s enough to keep her stable for now. “What about you?”</p>
<p>He offers her a grim smile. “I’m off to try and sort out one of my messes.”</p>
<p>“…Aaron?” she asks hesitantly, and he gives a bitter snort.</p>
<p>“No. One I might actually have a hope of fixing.”</p>
<p>After all, he owes Chrissie that, at least.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>find me on tumblr ---&gt; allirica.tumblr.com</p></blockquote></div></div>
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